


A House of Their Own

by beautifullyheeled



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Gryffindor John, Guide John, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Ravenclaw Sherlock, Sentinel Sherlock, Sentinel/Guide, Sentinel/Guide Bonding, The Golden Trio Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2432882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullyheeled/pseuds/beautifullyheeled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John was in the common room heading out to breakfast when it happened. </p><p>The Usual Suspects are Sixth-Years, and some First-Years (Golden Trio) are just beginning their shenanigans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMadKatter13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadKatter13/gifts).



> This is a story lovingly crafted for themadkatter13. It started out as a small fill and has me now by the heartstrings.


	2. Chapter 2

“Well how did it get in then?” John was laughing about it now, but a week ago? He’d been worried for the first and, well, second years. On all nights and of all things to get into the castle. A Troll. It was unheard of. Still the stuff of gossip in the halls, too. “Come on, Sherlock, tell me how.”

His friend Sherlock had been trying to suss out exactly _how_  the magical creature had gotten in, but as far as John knew, hadn’t yet. It really had the Ravenclaw stumped which hardly ever happened. He up and over his shoulder at the tall, dark-haired madman. How someone hadn’t caught his fancy yet... not that Sherlock hadn’t had plenty of attention from girls... and boys... and well that one mermaid... John shook his head to clear his scattered thoughts. Must need sleep. He hoped he wasn’t coming down with something, that would be awful.

“I told you, John. I. Don’t. Know.” The exasperated huff was something for the Gryffindor to tuck in his memory somewhere to pull out later and enjoy after lights out.  

“But you... figure out all sorts of puzzles. Cases. Missing things... and now the Ministry-”

“John, please do refrain from discussing that on school grounds.”

“I don’t think that... well it’s not possible your brother has  _this_ type of reach. He might be sneaky, but he’s just-”

“A low-level wizard that works in the Ministry that had access to places you’ve only heard rumours of. My family has served the Ministry for  _ages_ , John. I’m just glad that it relieves me of that tedious duty.” Sherlock’s gaze caught with his for a second as they walked towards the pitch. “That leaves so many more _interesting_  options open, does it not?”

“If by _interesting_ you mean thing that might get you... or myself... or the both of us killed? As long as we matriculate next year and I get my years in at Mungo’s as well as Muggle studies, I’ll follow you anywhere.”

Oh, bloody buggering... he’d done it now. John could feel the warmth of a blush on his cheeks. What was with him today? It had been a slow blossoming thing, rooted deep in his chest, but this? He couldn’t... Sherlock noticed _everything_. The Gryffindor cleared his throat quickly.

‘Steady on, John.’ He told himself. “He hasn’t noticed yet...’ Yet. That was the operative word. His friend couldn’t be a genius and, well, blind. He _observed_  everything, didn’t he?

“Anywhere... hmm?” Sherlock half- smiled, as he adjusted the Quidditch chest. “I think London will do, _Muggle_  London though. I want to live amongst them. Half of what people think of Muggles, even though we have half-bloods and full-blown first-time muggle students here, is all wrong. They’ve been to _space_ , John!”

“Well good for them, they know the moon isn’t  dragon egg. For certain. I can’t believe my great-great-grandmum believed that.”

“Some still do, John.” Sherlock sighed again. “Do you ever think wizards are moving backwards? I mean look at Steven Hawking! He’s a muggle-”

“Who knows about time and... we have _time-turners_ , Sherlock. So some things us wizards are good for... witches too. Don’t forget it was a witch that figured out the Skele-Gro formula. Muggles don’t have that either.”

“Well, I didn’t say they were _perfect_ , John.”

“Just reminding you, no one is.”

“Mary Poppins.”

“Time-lord, and most certainly not perfect. Practically perfect. Says so herself in the stories.”

Sherlock chuckled then, dipping his face and pushed his dark curls back from his face where they flopped about. “Gallifreyan, John. Time-lord...” He could bloody well hear his friends eye roll and laughed as well.

“Well it says so on the muggle telly-”

“To hide the fact they exist! Of course they have to invent odd names and always end up somewhere in Britain and save the day. Muggles... they’d well... I don’t know what they would do. Embrace them or eat them possibly... point is _she_  is Gallifreyan.”

“Fine, Sherlock. Gallifreyan and proud of it. Glad to have her as a potions teacher when Professor Snape is off doing things for Dumbledore.” He licked at his lips. “Things always smell and taste better for some reason...”

“And her tea is lovely.” Sherlock turned to look at him again, this time there was something soft, kind, about it. “I always know when you’ve given me her blend that you’ve earned.”

“Well you hardly eat, arse.” John bit at his lip this time thinking of the taste on Sherlock’s lips; it was enough for him to feel warm all over. Just the thought. This was getting out of hand.

“But I have you to feed me up.”

“That’s what I’m good for? Feeding you up?” The Gryffindor laughed again. “Least I’m good for something.”

“Good for more than-”

“Oi! Watson!” Lestrade called in greeting to his Captain. “Good to see you could join us plebs then.” The Beauxbatons transplant smiled widely. “Holmes! Good on you to help a fella to!”

Sherlock just shook his head and rolled his eyes again. “Afternoon, Gerome.”

“Gregory... you know what, just keep on with the Lestrade, yea? At least you don’t butcher it.”

“Yes, fine.” The Ravenclaw blinked a few times as if the sun were in his eyes. “Lestrade.”

Sherlock put the chest down as John began unlocking it. “Not joining in today?”

“No, but you know where I will be.”

“Don’t blow anything up! I mean it. You’re as barmy as that first year... Finnigan. That first year is going to bloody blow the whole boys dormitories up by year’s end. Just you wait.”

A very serious expression crossed Sherlock’s face. “May have to teach him a bit of safety. That... wouldn’t do. That.”

“Hey, I was kidding. Go. Play with doxies or something.”

“Yes, I was going to harvest some venom for the Weasley twins... always fun.” The glimmer of excitement was back in the Ravenclaw’s eyes now. “After dinner, John!”

With that, Sherlock took back off towards the main grounds on his own whistling some tune or the other. Possibly composing. Who knew what got on in that head, John mused to himself as Lestrade and he unchained the bludgers, pulled the quaffle and got ready for practice.

“When you going to tell him, mate?” Lestrade had ducked close to John’s ear to get the bats out; well it was a good cover at any rate.

John thought about it. The down-side to telling his best friend that he... well that it _was_ more. Could be more. Didn’t have to be but John would be in heaven if it were more. Heaven laced with tea flavoured kissed and odd itchy spots from who knows what concoction that Sherlock would have around or on him that day. Long warm arms that could-

“Dunno, Greg.” Was his actual answer.

The Gryffindor eyed him and chuckled. “You’ve got it bad. Bad, Watson. To. Your. Marrow, I say.”

Bloody buggering brilliant.

If Greg could see it, and only be half-good at those things... he must be mooney to others. No wonder Percy kept keeping partners when Sherlock wasn’t around. Trying to talk to him. Maybe, well, no. No, it was only a couple of people that... like Mary. Sweet as floss Mary with those golden curls and wide thistle coloured eyes. Bill, well, gosh who didn’t have a crush on him! He couldn’t imagine kissing either of them though, not now. Oh, it was bad. John had to figure something out. And soon.

He’d tell Sherlock tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

“You feeling better this morning, John?” Greg assessed him. The Gryffindor seventh year didn’t look completely convinced that John should be out of bed.

“Yeah, thanks for helping with the Quidditch equipment last night. It would have taken ages if-” 

John stopped mid-sentence as he suddenly _felt_ the emotional temperature of the room like a crackle of electricity against his skin. The sandy blond Captain could taste the sweetness of first love, the acrid flavour of defeat over a failed transmogrification, the bitterness of a failed relationship. Quidditch practice the night before seemed to pale in comparison. He swayed where he stood, trying not to let the other emotions overwhelm him. John decided he must be worse off than he had thought if he was ascribing physical taste to things he shouldn’t be able to _feel_ from others. 

He was no Guide.

“Oi, John,” Sally, a seventh year that had been chatting with Greg, chimed in when John stopped mid-sentence and fell silent. She poked him on the shoulder with one of her long fingers. “Watson, you sure you are alright, then?”

John had been looking forward to going to Herbology early that morning during his free hour. They had been working with simple tinctures; the supplemental class for those that wished to help Madame Pomfrey in the Hospital wing to earn the chance to summer at St. Mungo’s. Missing this might mean losing points towards being considered. He wanted to be a healer, wanted the chance to go to Cambridge, if possible, and bridge the gap between his two lives. 

No, this was some sort of weird, wizarding malady, that was all.

“Alright there, John?” Greg noticed the tension in his friend, then felt the call, as all Sentinels do.

“No, I’m fine, just a bit off is all.” The room was heaving as John found himself immersed in the pitch and roil of his fellow housemates’ whims. “It’s just a... well, I don’t know what it is... Greg, why are you so concerned?”

With one look to Sally, he rushed John back up to his room as they waited for Professor McGonagall to arrive. 

“John, you have to listen to me, mate. You’ve just... look, you’ve changed. You’re emitting and I’m trying to calm you, so just please...” Greg sat John down on his bed and began pacing around the small stove and between the door, every so often stopping at some thought-up noise or odd creak. “God, of course you would be a Guide.” 

The sixth year only half-listened to his friend, his thoughts turning inward as he tried to grasp the gravity of the change coming over him. Omega Guide. It would be an adjustment, but he knew those close to him would be supportive of him. John found himself feeling nervous and a bit sick to his stomach with the thought that _his_ future, the one he had planned, might be lost to him now.

No; no. His Sentinel would be his mate; would know his heart and see that this was something John had to do. He’d planned on being a healer since he was small. Maybe Aurors had them in their ranks? It would be more than helpful, wouldn’t it? To have someone on the ground the moment an injury occurred? 

John sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He could feel it, the thrumming that was pulling at him. It was marrow deep, like a black-blue bruise from falling part-way up to Quidditch start height. 

“Where does this all come from?” John wondered at the space of what could only be described as emptiness inside of him, needing to be filled. He floated along on the warmth he felt and wanted to follow. “You feel... prickly. Familiar though.”

“I’m not yours, is why. You’ll be fine.” Greg looked as if he calmed himself, then offered what comfort he could to John. “You know how these go. You’ve seen enough in the last six years here.” 

Even at seventeen, this wasn’t unheard of. He hoped his Sentinel wasn’t a first or second year just awakening. Even though John knew he would love them from the moment their eyes met, it would complicate things if they were. Maybe it was another late bloomer like himself? In any case, he would know soon. John knew with a certainty, somewhere within the grounds, his Alpha would feel the call and come to him. 

“I can feel it, the curve of it all... he’s not...” John smiled, sighing out as he reached for his Sentinel mentally. “But he is here.”

“A ‘he’, is it? Thought you were sweet on that blonde Mary?” Greg chuckled deeply. “Anything else you can figure?”

“Not much older... I think. Not a Gryffindor or... well, he would be here, wouldn’t he?” John shivered as his nerves twitched uncontrollably. He closed his eyes and laid his head against the foot post, wishing that the buzzing just under the skin would stop. It was as if the crackle had turned into a mild electrical current that was now running through him. “I’m fine, Greg... no one is going to go catatonic here.”

“Funny, mate. Looks like you’ve had too much butterbeer, if I’m honest. You sure you’re alright?” Greg paced over to him and eyed him a bit. “You look... well... ill.”

“I am, sort of, just... it’s fine.” The low drone of emotions made the room feel as if it pitched around for a moment. “Well, it will be, I suppose. What do you think he’s like, Greg? I mean, I wish it was... well, you know, but the chances of that... Does it make me horrible for thinking about him while waiting to meet my Sentinel? I mean, we’re going to... and what if I’m still thinking of him?”

“You never told Sherlock, then?” Greg sat beside his friend, grim-faced. “I’m sure your Alpha will be perfect for you, John. I don’t think you’ll be thinking of him that way for long. They say whoever you are bonded to-”

“-May be a surprise, but is always well matched.” John rested against Greg, the post giving him a headache. At least Greg felt familiar and helped drown out some of the white-noise in his head.

Professor McGonagall had come to their rooms in record time, Madame Pomfrey hot on her heels. After the professors shooed Greg out for modesty's sake, John relayed what he had experienced, and what he was continuing to feel, even as they spoke. He couldn’t understand why he’d yet to feel his Alpha. _His_ Sentinel. Had he been held against his will? Was he injured? There had to be a reason they weren’t together yet.

“Please, let me go to him!” The pull was strong enough to make bile rise in his throat and fray his temper. 

The call had reached all Gryffindors by this point, but none of them felt the need to answer. The need to protect him, though, was fierce. The Sentinels of their house came up; their Guides would be taking him to the Hospital Wing and Room of Bonding shortly. Even now as they were slowly ascending the stairs, they sent soothing thoughts ahead of them in warm waves, hoping to calm their newest brother and welcome him into their order. 

“Watson, you must pull yourself together,” Professor McGonagall commanded loftily. “We will assist you in finding him shortly. We are clearing the halls and the other Houses are seeing to their own to find your match. By the time we reach the Hospital wing, I am sure they will have found your Sentinel.”

“Coming aware, Guide... empathic first... was a sticky-wicket if there ever was one.” Madame Pomfrey soothed. “You’ll be safe as houses soon, I promise. For now though, let me show you how to dial back what you are broadcasting.”

“NO!” John shied back from the matron’s touch. “I’m sorry, just... I don’t need protection. I just _need him_ and he _can’t hear me_.”

“John Watson, I promise, there is no one that can resist the call. If you say he is within the bounds of Hogwart’s, then he must be,” McGonagall evaluated him. “If he is here, he will most certainly be becoming unhinged. You need to calm yourself this instant. We do not need two of you to contend with, nor do we need your Alpha feral when you meet.” 

How do you describe the pull to someone who has never felt it? The maddening, bone aching need to find your other half? Feeling your skin prickle, as if you’ve gotten yourself into a bed of stinging nettles and there is no relief? He could feel his honour guard, just one floor below, sending calm to try to cover all the excitement that now filled their wing. Knowing the sway of his friends’ mercurial feelings felt far too intimate, but he supposed it was a part of what he was becoming. 

“Yes, Professor... I know... it’s just that,” The sixth year tried to breathe deeply. “How do I... lessen this? It’s not right, knowing _all_ of this.”

“Your fellow Guides will shield you as we move through the school, John. It will help.” He looked up at the usage of his first name to find _Minerva_ smiling gently. The professor and Madame Pomfrey’s hands were at his elbows. “Come, Guide. Time to find your Sentinel.”

They made their way back down the stairwell of the boy’s dorms to find a quiet common room now lined with Guides. One of the Gryffindor seventh years, and another one from fifth year, took his elbows with Madame Pomfrey taking lead of the procession, the head of his house in the rear. John felt himself calming as reassurances flowed from those around him. When they entered the hallway, he saw that the corridor was lined with Gryffindors. 

The Sentinels, now ahead of the procession, were a sight to be seen. Decked out in richly coloured house robes, garnet, sapphire, topaz, and emerald. Every house represented. Richly hued house colours extended to his knot of Guide attendants, he realised. Theirs were black on the exterior, but the insides just as brightly jewel-toned. They moved through his housemates and into the honeycomb labyrinth of the castle. It was eerily muffled, and he felt like he was wrapped in woolen fluff, as if he wouldn’t be heard. As they passed common areas, where students from the other three houses lined the walls as well. The first years were bright eyed and curious; the rest just seemed some level of awed or proud as another wizard had broken the odds and awoken as a Guide. 

It had become less common since He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named had been vanquished. The phenomena caused a small current of worry throughout the community that there were not enough Sentinel/Guide pairings to fill the empty spaces. Recently, though, there had been an uptick once again. The wizarding world had rejoiced in this as the Aurors’ numbers were in desperate need of replenishment from the War, even now. 

John realised at that moment that everything else would have to wait; his Sentinel, his Alpha, that was all he needed. Let the rest of the world fall away. Only his mate mattered.

“He’s not here... not yet... I can’t feel him.” His heart began to pound in his chest as they made the final turns into the Hospital wing and the Guides took him to the Room of Bonding to wait. “There is something wrong, isn’t there? I can feel it from all of you... tell me!”

“John,” the seventh year- Alina? Was that her name?-was speaking to him. “We are more concerned that the other side of the call has not been answered... we can’t... well, we should be able to feel it by now. Maybe he was in Hogsmeade...” 

The fellow Gryffindor was trying, John could see that. It was just a cold comfort in his current state.

Madame Pomfrey dismissed them all and told the Guides to join their Sentinels and sweep the grounds. Once they’d left, she took his robes and carefully hung them. In the corner of the room she drew a warm bath, speaking in soft tones as she added several drops of a potion that smelled like vanilla. “Now don’t be fussed by the scent either- it just attunes to a soothing blend... think of Amortentia. But this is medicinal, of course.”

John scrunched his nose at the scent. It was true, in a moment it became palatable.

“In you go in a few moments, Mr. Watson,” the healer spoke in soft tones. “We will shield the room once your Sentinel is in with you. Have hope, dear. Once it took half a day to locate a poor Guide... you know these walls...” 

John did. Point in fact, every student was warned at the beginning of each term to mind their step and remember the paths through because, at times, the castle had a mind of its own. He remembered hearing of some first years getting caught with a troll just a few weeks previous. What it was doing in the castle, and how had yet to be resolved. 

He took a look around the room to clear his mind, to focus on _now _, the first thing his eyes fell on was the bed. It was _huge_. Four poster, like the ones in his dorm, but at least double the size and carved; each post carved with animals, one for each house. The theme continued with the curtains against the bedposts, each were colour of a different house, tied back to showcase the bed inside. Where those silk sheets? Wasn’t there something about silk and Sentinels? The whole bed looked soft and sumptuous; John was surprised, but he wouldn’t complain.__

__“Anything you need, while here, the room will provide.” Madame Pomfrey continued on, either missing or ignoring that John had been ogling the bed, adding the last few drops to the hot water. She smiled at him then. “I will check on you after the first forty-eight hours. If either of you need medical attention, the room will notify me, so have no worry.”_ _

__“Forty-eight... Madame Pomfrey, how long are we going to be in here?” He felt his cheeks colour at the question. John knew what, or had a good idea what, was about to occur, but days?_ _

__“Depends, dear. You're going into heat, so your Sentinel must be of mating age, and that can take seven days at most. But then, couples come and go as needed. In the meantime, yours and your Alpha's things will be moved to the Sentinel wing for you. There’s no need to worry about separating for any length of time to get that done.” She smiled at him as she stood and moved towards the door. “Both of you are from separate houses as well, which will make it more interesting. The blending. You should have seen... well, never you mind... I’ve spoke enough for now. Into the bath, soothe your body. Wash. He will be here before you know it.”_ _

__As John undressed, he thought of what lay in store for him. The room was warm in and of itself, and he was sure the steam was helping him greatly. As the soothing scents infiltrated the room, John first dipped his toes into the water, testing it, before slowly submerging.. He picked up the translucent bar of soap and began scrubbing his hair, working it into a lather before working it down his body. It was some sort of neutraliser, John realised. By the time he was done, the potion that had doused the bath was all he could smell in the room._ _

__More relaxed than he had been since the beginning of all this, he finally pulled himself out of the bath and wrapped in a robe before brushing his teeth. It took him a few moments to realise that there were clothes in the bureau against the wall. John dressed himself in the soft bed gown, feeling a bit odd as it was close to lunch by now. Then again, that’s what the Room had provided, so who was he to complain? His stomach, though, had begun to grumble, so he pulled the cord by the bed._ _

__A house elf appeared with a tray of tea and shortbread. He left them on the small table for John before half-smiling and apparating once again to where he had come from, no doubt to tell his friends he had met the newest Guide. They were funny little people that John admired. He always tried to thank their room elf, but never caught him at his job. Ever. Once done with his small snack, John began to feel the pull again, but it still felt out of sorts. There was no single direction. What if his Sentinel did not want to answer? If he was being rejected? Was that even a possibility?_ _

__John pushed himself up, went to the door and opened it to go find Madame Pomfrey. John was swiftly, but kindly, pressed back into the room with a quick word from the Guide standing guard. She promised to go get the healer, but only if John remained in the room in his state. What in the hell was she on about? He just wanted to know if his Sentinel was indeed close or if something horrible had happened. What if he’d been grievously injured and that was why John had ‘awakened’? What if he was meant to find him and save him? If he were caught in a fugue state he would never get out on his own. John shook his head and shrugged into the woolen house emblazoned robe provided for him, then left the room to go find his intended. Even if Hell barred the way, he would save his Alpha._ _


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock had been all over the castle early in the morning after the late night visit to the Restricted section had proved unhelpful for what was currently needed, but the case demanded to be solved. Then, finally, he’d found it. If he mixed Flitterby Wings with the mud from the troll’s shoe, he’d be able to break it down and see exactly how the beast had managed to get into the castle without being seen. Even the ghosts and portraits had missed the laborious creature skulking in the lower corridors.

He stretched his long neck and flexed his shoulders. The Ravenclaw had felt tense for the better part of the morning now, which was the opposite of his normal response to his experiments. In an instant, he had it. John was not with him. The soft drone of his friend’s mind helped settle him most times that they were together. His mood now rueful, Sherlock laughed quietly to himself. 

_John. My John_.

No, no that was not correct. _John wasn't his_. The Gryffindor was loyal, desperately so, but John was not interested in anything other than friendship. Losing his father to the Wizard War and then his mum shortly after to a broken heart had done his friend no favours. It left him and his older sister with their aunt, and they did have their parent’s savings, but John still felt the loss keenly. He had sworn himself a celibate vow, a life of healing and of the muggle sciences of bodily health, something Sherlock was curious about himself.It made him melancholy for some reason to think of his friend alone. It was better for Sherlock though; he’d have John beside him indefinitely, never losing him to the simpleminded likes of Mary or her kind.

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Sherlock ran his nails across his scalp fluffing the dark curls to an even more riotous state than they had left the Library. “I can’t be... fixating... on...” His best friend? Only friend? He was already so hard to classify without these maudlin feelings interjecting themselves. “John.”

The Ravenclaw cinched his cloak tighter around himself and sulked from on of the many hidden exits that he and the Weasley twins kept rather quiet about, for their own various reasons, and made a bee-line for the finger of the Forbidden forest that was just perfectly there. The Whomping Willow was not far off, but he knew better than to come near it. He didn’t want to attract attention to himself. If the idiot-well alright, mildly-idiot-identicals wanted to fuss with it, on their head be it. Not his area at all. 

There was something always a bit... off in the forest. Not that he believed the silly stories that most Wizards or Witches did... no it was somewhat of an ‘eyes-on-you’ feeling that rankled. Mycroft was at the Ministry, and he did have eyes on him often, of that Sherlock wasn’t in doubt... but here in the quiet loamy undergrowth leading to the forest proper... it still made his skin prickle. He steadfastly ignored it. Creatures of all sorts inhabited the place, but he knew to keep to himself, get what he came for, and leave without disturbing much and had never had a run in with even so much as a squirrel. 

Sherlock continued on this way every so often stopping and placing some needed thing in a vial or parchment square. His thoughts were primarily on _that_ Troll and how it evaded basic Hogwarts security. How did it get into the dungeons? That should have set the Castle itself into motion to protect the students, especially as the trail led close to the Slytherin’s Dormitory. Dinner or not, it was supposed to sequester danger if at all possible. How was a Troll not deemed one that far below? He shook his head as he knelt to look at a particularly interesting viscous web. Tiny, but he knew the little thing that spun this, wherever it was, to be viciously protected by now... _but_ the web itself looked abandoned so it was his luck to chance upon it. Even Sherlock was bright enough not to poke about with the acromantula colony, they were deadly possessive of their webs. Taking a small twig, he had begun harvesting it when he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. 

‘Bit not good.’ John’s voice brightly reminded him in his head. 

He would have argued back, but he had no idea where the danger was. Finishing his task he scanned the area from under his lashes, but could see nothing. Not that it mattered. Could be a spider dangling just over his head for all he knew. Wouldn’t John be pleased then? For his best friend to have been killed over a bit of web that Sherlock just had to stop and get to experiment on later. Sherlock steadied his breathing and slowly stood, looking around properly now. 

Nothing.

No, not nothing. Breathing. Very laboured breathing.

Nothing was always something. 

On his right, not far in the distance laid a unicorn. It’s blood spilt from the neck as it tried to breath; the soft bray of sadness clear just under it. It drew Sherlock in. Slowly, he made a circuit, wand out now, and gently knelt beside the creature where he could see it. The silvery mercury-like flow was running free and looked hellish, wrong, against the pure white coat. His fingers found the mane, as the large eye trained on him as the unicorn’s body shuddered with it’s last breath. It angered him, suddenly. He was intemperate and livid at this loss. 

‘Sherlock, don’t be stupid. You’ve missed-’ John once again helpfully butted into his thoughts. 

“It’s always something.” He muttered to himself under his breath. 

If it’s attacker were still there, which it most likely was, Sherlock had stopped a feeding which meant he was in peril. Yet the ‘watched’ feeling had dissipated. It had not been because the noble creature had died either, Sherlock mentally noted. Then it was vials and parchment out, specimens collected for further study... he was respectful. He took in the corpse one last time as he moved to leave; there was not a _visible_ trace of him being here, which was good. Scent of a human yes, but by the time this creature was found, it would be greatly muddled, as would his trail.

He turned, following the path he’d mapped internally, paying more attention to his surroundings this time around. He felt on-edge. Apprehensive, as if sparks were crackling against his skin from the autumn fires just lit of Bonfire Night. It was... disquieting. His stomach lurched then, letting itself be known; his nerves setting his teeth on edge as his breath came in shallow heaves. This was _wrong_. Sherlock shook it off and pressed on towards the castle. Once he was in the Room of Requirement, he’d figure it out. Maybe he was more affected by the unicorn’s death that he first thought... No. That wasn’t it. It was something... missing... something necessary. 

By the time he had trudged to the Room or Requirement, he was doing his best to ignore the oncoming illness that was obviously over taking him. Some useless common thing that his immune system was currently succuming too. John would know. Fevered, he shambled three times and thought of their laboratory... when had it become theirs? Well, he supposed when John had that fit and thought in chairs and that couch... the hob and all those... muggle journals that he had begun buying at that odd book-shop. So, yes, theirs. But where was John?

Tea welcomed him, on the table specifically for his experiments. Sherlock smiled at it affectionately, then stopped the silly expression. It would never do to smile around John that way. No, he was content with toothache-sweet Mary. He’d seen his blue eyes wander across Billy Weasley’s arse after practice last year... how Percy had sidled up to him sometimes at dinner. It wasn’t... it was fine. John was his friend, his best friend as for some reason he had to keep reiterating to himself today. 

_Not Romantically Involved_. 

Sherlock tacked the banner high in his mind palace, so he would stop forgetting this fact and possibly drive John away. That would be the worst of the worst case scenarios. No, better to be friends, share the bonds of brotherly love. Hopefully, eventually, the bonds of public service as Aurors. He swallowed hard at that idea. That meant if they went through to see if they were latent, went through awakening and then were found guides to... But he would, for John. 

Maybe there wouldn’t be a pairing found, or possibly John would continue on in a medical fashion as Sherlock became a Guideless Sentinel. He could do it. Maybe this would be something to discuss. To have John see that side, the helpful medical side. He could still go with Sherlock on all his cases, he would make certain of it. He’d only allow John to work him out of a zone, if it ever were to happen. He couldn’t stand for another to brush his mind. He could picture his friend intimately drifting into his palace, seeing the inner working of his very self. Putting order back from the chaos that could occur... why was all of this suddenly... comforting? Sherlock had things to process and separate. It wouldn’t do to daydream. 

Settling the duffel on the workspace, he began the task of doing just that. The Work. John would come when he was ready. Sherlock had figuring out to do. The Troll, and now, pinning the Unicorn on the board of ideas as well. He put the evidence he’d collected in the locking curio cabinet and sipped at the sub-par tea. Taking a deep breath, he settled himself, ignored the John-sized hole in his day and soldiered on, just as his friend had shown him.

At lunch, the room bossily left a plate full of the muggle biscuits with the chocolate on them and finally tea the way John prepared it when they had proper stores. It made him miss his friend even more. Which was irrational. He began once again slowly straining and sorting the fine particles, noticing their different textures. Fascinated, he watched as all the different sediments whorled and dipped slowly to collect at the bottom of their respective tubes. They were all so different, their structures almost laid bare to his eyes. Sherlock shook his head as a wave of dizziness hit him. How long had it been since he slept? 

An elf popped in, but he swiftly shooed off without a word. How had he even gotten in? Was he needed? This was worrisome... Was there nowhere in the castle that he could get away from everyone but his partner? And where was John? That ridiculous herbology class should be well over. The Gryffindor should be here. Sherlock settled himself once again, or at the very least tried to, now that everything had settled in the tubes.

The cool trickle that wound up his spine was most unwelcome. He’s never felt a chill in this room. He took to growling and complaining under his breath as the temperature dropped a degree at a time. 

“Yes, yes. What the hell are you trying to do? Freeze me out?” Sherlock groused to no one in particular. “Is there some reason why you feel this necessary, Room? Want a bit of alone time or this is a new way you’ve invented to make sure I eat dinner, perhaps?” The seventh year looked at his experiment. “If I leave now, I need these saved. They are important. I must find out who let that troll in. We know he didn’t bumble into the castle without help, don’t we Room? Just- I’ll go to dinner, then I’ll bring John back as proof, alright? Yes.”

Sherlock swirled his woolen robes on and left the room, his back straight, shoulders back. He had to show the room who was in control or next it would be coming up with other unpleasantness to bring his way. He could not have that happening, so for now, he would appease the room and go get John. He had to have finished dinner by now. 

The pull he felt as soon as he left the Room of Requirement was of a magnitude of one of the highest orders. It sucked the air from his lungs and made his heart want to fly from his chest. He tried to grab on to the doorknob even as it disappeared, needing something to ground him. There was nothing. Only a need unanswered; and sorrow. 

Desperation. 

Sherlock closed his eyes and tried to force the feelings away from him, to shut them into a room in his mind palace, as it had to be a trick of some sort. There is no one who longed for him this way, yet even the fabric of his being was returning the call without his will. It was a cruel joke. Some love potion that had been smashed or wafted through this section of the halls as a prank.

Sherlock realised his feet were propelling him forward towards the Hospital Wing. 

_John_.

What if something had happened. His friend... what if he’d been seriously injured today and the elf had been sent to fetch him? That was why the Room kicked him out. Had to be. John needed him. He could hear whispers and saw bodies line the walls, the students trying to seem as unobtrusive as possible as he passed them, his stride purposeful as he honed in on John. Others, once sighting him, bolted down secondary corridors. He didn't give them the time of day even when John didn't need him, but now that the Gryffindor did, he couldn't even be bothered with subconscious deductions. 

Why was it taking so long to get to the Hospital wing? He knew the castle from dungeons to the tips of its turrets, it should not take this long! Then he heard him, his John. He picked his pace up to a dead sprint as he felt worry and need wash over him like a warm summer rain. John was close, he only had to find him. He smiled at the scent of those soft cookies that John sometimes had the house elves bring up to them, it seemed to cling to the very lining of his lungs, turning every exhale sweet. He rounded the corner expecting to run into the compact frame of his friend, but still there was no one there. It was infuriating. 

“Oh, has young Holmes found a problem that he can’t quite solve?” The voice came both from above and behind him. Not a person. 

“Peeves, why are you in this part of the castle?” Sherlock knew he would get nowhere, but the poltergeist wasn’t going anywhere either now that it had found someone to bother. “I thought you preferred the boy’s on the ground floor or the Girl Prefects bath?”

“Rude little pureblood, sniping at my heels? You must have lost your footing, I’m afraid. Coming from the Room of Refuse then?”

He finally took in his surroundings. “It let me out here?”

“Oh, probably thought it would be the safest. Well the castle... and you didn’t even notice where your feet took you from there. Tell me, brat, your nerves on edge?” Peeves looked positively pleased. “Your Omega is somewhere in the castle now, looking for you. Got out of his pretty little confinement, he did.”

“Omega? Peeves, I’m not... mated. I’m just ill. I was on my way to the-”

“Hospital wing? Hearing the ‘Call’, like your House Mistress did all those ages ago? Careful, you do know how her story ended.”

“Enough.” He bristled and looked Peeves over to see if he was just in a mood or lying. 

He found tells only of gloating and truth.

“Ah, so... going to try and traipse off to your love nest? Little in-house detective and his muggle-loving doctorish friend going to ‘size’ each others ‘wands’ up?” The poltergeist giggled gleefully and floated near the top of the vaulted corridor ceiling. “See if yours ‘fits’ in his ‘pocket’ as it were?”

Sherlock turned pink, then red. The thought of John and he in _that_ situation had begun to cause havoc to his body. He was flush with naked want now, but the need to protect John was just as high on his physical list as it was on his mental one. It was shocking. As he took a breath to truly lay into the vile creature, Sherlock once again caught the scent the slightly vanilla-warm-John-ness. Without another word or thought he took off like a shot calling his friends name. They would figure this out together. Wouldn’t they? Of course they would, it was what they did best.

He was lost within the maze of the underbelly of the castle for what felt like ages; the tease of John just ahead spurring him on. Sherlock decided he’d go until he collapsed to get to him. That the Gryffindor was too precious to lose and was his to protect always. If that included his heart, so be it. The tidal rise of compassion and concern and hopeful thoughts had him feeling compressed, as if he’d been underwater just that much too long. He didn’t care, he’d drown in John. Happily dance to his death if it were his mate stealing his air, leaving him breathless from kisses. Now that was a new, brilliant thought. 

“John! Where are you?” He called even as he rounded the next flight of stairs, his thoughts driving him forward more than his instincts, and ran him right into another person knocking them both to the worn stone floor. “Bloody well get-” Sherlock stopped at a crouch, filling his lungs with the sunshine-and-honey-flavor reminiscent of his Grandmere’s cake. The vanilla-warmth scent was still the strongest though on his Guide. “John.”

John looked up at him with blue eyes so full of devotion and pain and worry Sherlock almost whimpered. It struck him deep. It was fatal, his heart pierced by the melancholic stare. “Oh, no... no John... I’m here...”

“You, you’re safe? Where have you been?” The Gryffindor’s worry flowed over them both. 

“I was in the Room, I had no idea... _John_...” The name fell reverently from his lips as he fully kneeled before picking John up. “I know where we need to go.”

His Guide curled into his arms and laughed softly. “You remember that, of all things.”

“No, you just showed me,” The older boy caressed John’s temple. “From here.” 

For all that Sherlock desperately wanted privacy, he would want them _all_ to know John was _his_ ; his only. 

“I’m sure the whole castle knows by now.” John chucked warmly against the exposed skin of Sherlock’s throat. He could feel their hearts beating hard and swift, together as he walked them through the few short halls. The joy that welled between them almost toppled Sherlock as he rounded the threshold to the Room of Bonding. 

“I don’t think I can wait long enough to bathe... but you did. Didn’t you, my Guide?” 

Sherlock pressed the door closed, locking it with the key, then began to pull at his robes. He needed. _Now_. John had pushed the covers to the foot of the bed and sat on the side, his cheeks pinked, watching his Alpha strip for him. 

“I did, Madame Pomfrey-”

The thought of someone else seeing John nude made him angry. Sherlock tried to steady himself; his breathing, his lungs greedy for more of the Omega’s scent. He was having a hard time handling the mix of love, lust, hesitancy, and need that John was covering them both with. 

“No talk of others now, John. _I_ am here, _we_ are here.” 

Sherlock walked over, nude and half erect, to lean against his mate. He kissed John softly, nibbling at his lower lip before sucking it in to release it slowly. His own bravado caught up to him as he tasted the warm astringent-floral flavour of acceptance on his Omegas mouth. 

His long fingers found the gathering at John’s waist from the bed gown and pulled it off slowly. The Sentinel still could not wrap his head around the fact that John was his and that they were about to bond. His lips found a soft bit of hair, then temple, then cheek before the clothing came up and completely away, leaving John bare to him. 

Never, in a thousand years, had Sherlock hoped that his recent fantasies of his friend splayed out for him would come to life. John had always looked towards girls for companionship, even though he’d only dated three. Not many, the Alpha supposed, but that was more then enough. Someone else kissing John, let alone _more_ than kissing... he wanted to snarl and rage against it. Even as his rational mind tried to remind Sherlock that this was all new, his instinct was to claim, to mark, to make sure no one touched his mate again.

“Sh-Sherlock...I-” John shuddered as Sherlock laid beside him, unable to complete the sentence as his breath caught.

“I’ll try to do what you want, John... Anything you want.” 

“I’ve never…I mean I’m...”

The dark haired wizard thrilled somewhere deep within at the admittance. Only his, then, this way. Perfect. Sherlock smiled as he kissed John, tasting him fully. John was everything to him; would be. Was. Moving his hands over the planes of John’s chest, Sherlock felt the newly acquired muscle from both quidditch and rugby. It made his cheeks flush to see it and feel it under his fingertips. He scooted down a little in the bed and brushed his lips where John’s heart lay beneath his ribs. 

“I know, John. I am, too... obviously. We’ll learn together.” He chuckled then and straddled John at his hips kissing him again, this time tipping his tongue into the soft exhale, licking at the warm breath and softness. “You smell... sweet... but not familiar...” He’d have to check the indexes they had in the kitchen’s library; John’s scent was much more complex in close quarters. “It’s soft... and spicy... it’s a puzzle.”

“Well you... always told me. You love a good puzzle.” John chuckled then beneath him and kissed him back, invading Sherlock’s mouth. He gave control of the kiss over, his hands continuing to roam over naked skin, delighted when John moaned a bit as his fingers grazed a nipple. 

“One day, John, I will know all of you,” He broke off and nuzzled at the Omega’s neck. Sherlock could feel the warm high of their shared heat mingling; his instincts rising. “One day, we’ll have children. I promise you.” 

“Children, as Auror’s? I don’t... you know how-” 

“Yes, hush. He’s gone. Deserves no place here.” Sherlock would give John the whole wide world if he asked it of him. Hide them away in his family’s forgotten manor that his Grand-mere had left him. 

“It would be... to have...” He felt his Omega’s heart race, and not for the reasons he wanted.

Later, they had all the time to discuss all of this. “Please, hush. Nothing-” 

The niggling thought of losing John accidentally hit him hard. He rejected the thought, he quickly submerged himself in his other senses, his mouth and hands wordlessly asking for more. John reached out for Sherlock, holding him close as he wrapped a leg around the Sentinel’s thigh, pressing them close together. The moan that escaped him only fueled Sherlock to slip his hand down farther between them; to watch its progress across slightly tanned skin, past John’s navel to skim along the vee of his thighs.

“Nothing, will part us.” John breathed between them, finishing Sherlock’s aborted sentence; his Sentinel’s name exhaled against fragile skin as long fingers wrapped around his cock. 

Sherlock ran his thumb along the underside to the slick pearl of pre-ejaculate that barely peeked from the slit. He closed his eyes against the rush of emotion that bombarded him. John wanted him, loved him already. It was heady. To feel the acceptance coming off in waves from his friend; now lover. Bondmate. Guide. He felt the heat of John’s slick against his thigh for the first time and shuddered at the pleasure John was emanating. 

“Sherlock- please,” John whined sending another jolt of pleasure through his Sentinel. “Please, I need you.” He pressed his bottom against the linens and moaned. “I’m... slick?” 

“Yes.” Sherlock softly laughed. “Omega, John.” 

He was amazed at how his Guide’s body was responding; changing. He gasped a moan and bucked their cocks close together. The only thing between them were Sherlock’s fingers, knowing he would be the only one to ever see John this way... the rush of endorphins left him breathless and wanting. They weren’t mindless, though, lost in heat and rut without consideration. It seemed a wives tale, then. Interesting. 

“Tosser.” John grunted; moved against him, rolled his hips. “Touch me? Open me... please.”

The dark-curled Alpha only purred at the request, his lips casting about John’s chest and neck carefully staying away from the scent gland. He didn’t want this over swiftly. His Omega needed, though, and that was just fine. More than fine. Scooting down in their bed, he slipped his mouth around the Guide’s cock, laving it with his tongue thinking on what he might enjoy, as his now free hand pressed against the viscous sweet runoff that was his Omega’s. Sherlock moved down further; lapped at John’s thighs as his fingers found their temporary home within his mate. 

“Sherlock!” John hoarsely cried so loud it felt as if it shook their bed. “Yea, there, oh pleasepleaseplease...” 

His voice had become pitched and breathy. Sherlock could feel the air crackle around them, the atmosphere heavy, was charged and tasted of ozone and petrichor. Sherlock felt the cloying depths all the way to his very marrow. 

“John... please forgive me... I _need_...” His voice became ragged as the Sentinel pulled himself back up John’s body and removed the few fingers he’d barely worked in placing them in his mouth and moaning. “I’m going... now... tell me... you’re mine, my Guide...”

“Yes. Yes... Sentinel-” John moaned hotly against his Sentinel’s shoulder. “Mine, my Alpha.”

The Omega heaved another breath as Sherlock’s knuckles brush his perineum. Sherlock found himself holding his own as he pressed the tip of himself against John, then into him. The Alpha in him, the protector, felt his Guide’s heart beat hard as he moved his fingers away. He gathered John up in his arms as best he could, the feel of his cock sliding into the Omega enough to choke him with tears. 

John’s went to pieces underneath him, the golden haired Guide whimpering softly in pleasure as Sherlock tenderly pressed in to his hilt. The heat, the _feeling_ of it was almost overwhelming. The giving and taking and further giving of pleasure; caught in each others emotions on top of their own sensations... it was a feedback loop that nearly pushed him over, down...

Sherlock held still for fear of ending this as swiftly as it had began. John wiggled a little, letting out a whinge along with a blistering word, whispered, that caught on his lips and spoke of purest need. 

“John, wait. Oh, please, hold…“His voice caught as the wave of adoration hit him. 

The impact left him breathless as he sank into the hazy emotional haven they were creating for one another; the completion involved in immersing himself in John both physically and mentally. He had to get some control; it wouldn’t do for either of them if he ended it all now. Sherlock knew he could make this pleasurable. The give of John’s body, the soft puffs of breath, the dryness of his lips as he gathered him close for a fumbling kiss. His own breath shakily exhaled against his mates; his kisses trailing down to the side of John’s throat. Scenting his Guide, Sherlock nuzzled before nipping, once again, at the soft skin. 

“Mine.” The word did not describe well enough what the Sentinel felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! All of you who have read, just, thank you. For those who have kudo'd and commented, it means a lot. The feedback. It really, really does. Thank you again.
> 
> Notes: I am finishing out a couple of Exchangelock fills, but the next chapter will post Thursday night. From there, the last few chapters will be weekly. If you have any questions or have any particular Potter HPatPS trivia you would like added, let me know and I will try to insert it!
> 
> Thank you all so much for how many kudos, comments, and views this has already gotten.
> 
> Love and Light~ Diann


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see NOTES at the end of this chapter. Thank You.

“Yours, Sherlock-” John moaned into the meeting of their lips. 

His Sentinel was over him, in him, both in body and mind. He never thought that accepting someone into him would ever be this pleasurable. Never thought he would be a Guide. Sure, sex had always been a possibility, but this?

This wasn’t sex.

This was them _meshing_ together and it was blissful. John _heard_ and _felt_ how much his Alpha already loved him. From before the bonding, the instinctual pull. It made John want to cry when he realised they had both been dancing this whole time.

How long had they been so foolish?

Sherlock nuzzled again at his throat, the soft caress moving him to bare more of the Guides unmarked skin. “We are together now, John.”

“Yes.” It was both an answer and a plea.

John tilted his head back, exposing himself even more as he impaled himself on his Alpha’s cock. Filled like this, even now, he needed more. The Omega writhed as hands stilled his hips and teeth grazed at his throat. It was heaven. Bliss. His breathing ragged as something pleasurable was hit. It wasn’t enough to make him lose himself completely, but it let him know the spot was there. 

“Deeper, _please_ Sherlock.”

His Alpha just groaned, his fingers digging into John as Sherlock tried to do as he asked. The pleasure was building steadily, but thoughts of more and now swam in his veins. He moaned and arched against a particularly good thrust and mewed as teeth once again grazed his throat. John felt the thump of his pulse against Sherlock’s lips as he twined his fingers in the dark curls of his Sentinel. They were moving not quite together, but it didn’t matter. His own cock had been ignored since his Alpha pressed into him, now was knocking between them driving him mad. 

“Alpha, _please_.” He was desperate, scattered now with their mingled bliss and the instinctual want to be taken, used and pleasured and to fulfill their bond. Tears tracked their way down getting lost in his hair with the sweat that had already dampened it. “Mine, you’re mine. Aren’t you?”

“John,” Sherlock’s voice sounded rough as it caught on his name. “Yes, I am.”

“Then _take me_ ,” The Omega rammed his hips down on the next thrust. “ _THERE_!”

Sherlock groaned with him, as he did indeed sink deeper. “Eheu!”The expletive shouted seemed to lose something in his Sentinel. “Over, now, _Now_.” 

He pulled away, as Sherlock flipped him and scooted onto the bed on his own knees as well. 

“Oh, beautiful...” John felt the lap of his Alpha’s tongue from his bollocks to his sacrum. “So much better.” 

“Just, _superus_ ,” The Omega felt their bond lessen and he whined at the loss. He know Sherlock needed to do this, it would be fine. All fine. “I _need_ you, Sentinel.”

“I- You’re mine, I know,” Heated breath and lips made their way up along his spine, it was heavenly. The warm kisses to soothe what was ahead. John bowed his head as Sherlock positioned and thrust in, not quite as easily, but the stretch was marvelous. “Mine.”

His Alpha’s words had turned soft, almost sweet as he filled John again. Tears prickled anew as the Guide felt the bond renew and the wave of utter adulation filled him, stronger with each stroke. He knew Sherlock was thickening and he met every thrust, every movement without fear. John’s hands slipped along the silk, Sherlock’s were right there, entangling their fingers keeping them closer together as he licked and nipped once again at John’s neck. 

John’s breathing became uneven as he felt the knot form, Sherlock was close then. It made him smile. To bring his Sentinel so much pleasure as he received; to bring his best friend joy. He sent a thin tendril of _hope_ along the tenuous bond along with _trust_ and _love_. The strokes inside him became shorter, but harder as Sherlock filled completely. 

“Love you, too, my...my life...” The Alpha whispered brokenly, pushing his knot into John. “It is yours, my Guide, my love.”

It was too much without the bite, but it forced that extra length needed to stroke that pleasurable space within the Guide. 

“Bite me, love, I...” John refused to say it even though he knew it was beginning to seep into the hazy nest of softer emotions they had built. The taste was acrid and he whined, thrusting back against his Alpha as he shushed and soothed him. He knew his knuckles must be white and Sherlock’s fingers had to hurt, but the Sentinel slowed and rolled his hips.

_Oh_.

Sherlock bit down then, softly at first, then all at once, rocking inside John and if that wasn’t just a little more than perfect. Brilliant. Joyous. The Omega sobbed his Alpha’s name, completely lost in what was _them_. The heat, warmth... fulfillment and filling of him. He never could have imagined this, the perfect giving/receiving of it all. John knew his fingers were locked once again in Sherlock’s as he tried to move, roll his hips for more friction. 

When he cried out, he felt a wave of satisfaction. 

He reached within himself and answered. 

The knot that held them slipped in just _there_ , changed everything from pleasurable to primal. John needed to be filled and taken and fucked. The Omega dropped his head to their hands and keened, begging. His knees slipped and Sherlock dropped them to their sides, loosing their fingers and gripped his thigh. 

“Mine, John. Mine.” His Sentinel felt the change, must have as his own emotions changed. John could scent them in the air and growled, wanting rough and now; the time for lovemaking was over. Sherlock wrapped his hand along to the inner thigh and opened the Guide further, rocking into him as he snaked his other hand to John’s forgotten cock. 

“Make me yours, oh bloody Hell, mine!” John couldn’t breathe. Everything was so intense, he couldn’t find air. He was gasping and being fucked and fucking and it was all so much. He had to be begging, something, he knew words... sounds were around him. Them. Then he felt Sherlock. All over. In him, filling him with his come, biting him, crying to him to follow mentally. It catapulted him over the edge and sent him hurtling into his own orgasm, painting his chest and the linens below him. 

There was blissful haze. A white nothingness that he floated in, bathed in. Peace. A sweet place he wanted to stay. His Alpha was whispering, speaking to him, bringing him back. The cotton candy clinging to his mind slowly melted away, until he came down to earth and he was still warm. Covered. His eyes still closed he could feel Sherlock whispering soft words at the nape of his neck, still snug within him. Somehow they’d been covered, and tangled their limbs. 

_Cherished_ resonated through to the walls of their room. _Claimed_ maybe further. They were both possessive it seemed, both protective. John hummed a noise feeling his throat catch at the fresh wash of adoration. 

“Sherl-”

“Hush, John... it’s alright.” There was a warm happy sound he’d never heard in his voice before. “I’m, well... I’m content. I suppose. And, yes. I can hear you, Guide.”

“Never, never will get used to that.” John smiled himself, and turned his neck gingerly to look at Sherlock. He tried to tip to kiss his Alpha, Sentinel... friend. The thought had him tearing again. Silly rushes he’d have to get a hold of. “Kiss us, then.”

“Always, John. Always.”

By the time his knot loosened, they’d completely soiled the linens, possibly destroyed them. John felt sore, but in a good, post-quidditch sort of way. Sherlock stood, completely immodest, and ran a new hot bath for them both. He looked at a few of the bottles and added (forgot what the heck medicinal) and a couple of drops of lavender before he came back over to the bed. 

“No. Nonononononono!” John laughed and squealed as Sherlock picked him up off of the bed causing a flood of Sherlock’s semen to exit him quickly. His Sentinel froze. Then laughed. It was utterly gross, but what had they expected? His Alpha caressed him with a thought and sat him into the tub as it filled and grabbed the nearest towel and cleaned off the sticky slick. “Serves you right.”

“Yes, for not thinking ahead. Towel next time.” Sherlock broke into a shy easy smile.

“Shut it! Come join me.” He sent a wave of attraction his way to tease his mate. 

Sherlock laughed at the thought. “Yes, we are that, but we are more, too.”

The hot water was soothing and John was grateful for how much compassion the Alpha was showing. It felt good to soak in the aromatic water and just relax, let the humm of residual pleasure fill him for a while longer. Sherlock dipped a toe in, breaking John’s reverie, and then slid in properly maneuvering him just a little. It felt good for his thighs to be supported on his Sentinels. It took some of the pressure off of his backside... his arse... and let him slide supported deeper into the water itself. 

“John...” The warm voice floated in the steamy air to him waking him again. “You must be tired.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to fall asleep. It’s just draining I suppose... this.” The Guide sent a pulse of affecting between them. “Take time to get used to.”

“Yes, I suppose.” And there was the shy smile, the real one, that was only John’s. 

He stroked at one of Sherlock’s feet. “I wonder how long this part will last. The Heat.” 

“Such a horrid term... even something as frivolous as ‘Honeyed Moon’ or ‘Cyclical Trysting’ would be better. We aren’t Were-people after all. The cycles aren’t even the same.”

John shook with laughter. “Honeyed Moon? Cyclical Trysting? What have you been reading?”

“Nothing. Well, nothing to be concerned about.” Sherlock ran his hands along John’s shins.

“Ah... that’s... nice.” John bit at his lip, the zing of want surprising and instant. 

Sherlock noticed immediately, his own eyes dilating as he scented the air. His hands did not still, though they did become more possessive. Stroking less languidly, the Alpha sat up some. John remained relaxed in the water and blushed as he softly smiled. 

“John?” The question was heavy with emotion. 

“I can feel it. You, you know? In the words.” John slinked close, moving his legs and turning in the water to slot between Sherlock’s thighs. “Taste it almost. Us. It’s... I never thought. This is the very best scenario there could have ever been for me. Well, for us.”

He pressed himself upward against his Sentinels chest and kissed the mad bastard. Finally, finally John was able to take a little back, the surprise and want thrumming once again through their bond. “It’s more, I can sense you... better, John.”

“Oh, bloody, yes.” The Omega bit at his Alpha’s lip, then licked it gently allowing the swell of need to power him through his shyness. He could feel their bodies already responding. Without another thought he straddled onto Sherlock’s lap and deepened the kiss. He felt the brush of his Sentinels cock against his cleft and rubbed against it, allowing it to press _just_ up against him. The half-hardness of Sherlock was not quite insistent, but still felt lovely all the same.

“Should we? In here?” Sherlock spoke between desperate kisses.

“Yes, definitely.” John replied as he trailed to Sherlock’s throat and bit. Not hard, but enough to get a rise out of him. “Here. Now.”

“But the water?” It was obvious, the Sentinels concern, but John had a theory. 

“Shut it. My body.” He retorted.

The Omega pressed down against the hardening cock. His own entrance, still relaxed from the hormones and their coupling, allowed the the tip of him in with a silent pop. John felt the swell of the Alpha as he hardened; he just took soft, panting breaths and slowly eased himself until Sherlock was hard and filling him once again. This time, yes, he felt a bit tender, but he gave himself time to adjust, just rocking, Sherlock’s hands at his waist steadying him.

His head thrown back, Sherlock’s mouth skated along his throat in turn. “All the time you need, my love.”

“So full... More than last time.” John huffed softly, humming his almost-pleasure. “Almost good.”

Sherlock shifted then, to give John more room to move. “Better?”

He tentatively rolled his hips and moaned. The depth had changed and what ever that pleasurable spot was, it was being pressed against consistently. He felt a gush of their combined slick leave him as he tightened on his Alpha. 

“Oh, god, Sherlock...” John trembled with the release and rocked again, the sensitive insides of him being stroked with every new thrust. The Guide reached out both physically and mentally for his Sentinel. He needed the grounding; Sherlock’s presence. 

“I’m here.” The words were both verbal and mental as a wave of assurance flowed over him. 

The Omega thrust himself down again and cried out as his Alpha’s cock hit bottom. It was so much. It was perfect. “Mine, mine, Sherlock. Say it!” John pulled a deep breath through his teeth as he felt another wave of pleasure run through him and he rode a little harder. “Only mine.”

Sherlock grunted an affirmative, holding John tight. “Only yours, Guide.”

“This... oh fu- it’s. I’m going to-” His toes curled and he cried out trying to stop the hurtling feeling of orgasm. Not yet, not yet, he thought. 

“Yes, now!” Came the response. “Make yourself come, I need to feel you, John.”

“Don’t want this to end. Not yet.” His darkened blue eyes met his Sentinels as he felt the knot beginning. “See, so close...”

“Other times, please... it’ll be so...” Sherlock shivered, then shifted again, giving himself room to plant his feet. “You are perfect like this. Radient.” 

Pride washed over the Guide as he gave into his body’s demands and rode his Alpha’s cock hard, the bouncing causing swift ripples in the water. Sherlock took his cock and stroked at it desperately, his eyes still fixed on John’s. Ecstatic need filled him as he fucked himself on the knot; the moans as it hardened, popping it in and out of him, indecent. 

“My love, my Omega-” The Alpha begged, their bodies all prickled with heat, before he keened and it stayed fast within him, locking them together. “Now, please. So close.”

John kissed him once hard before baring his throat and brokenly crying out through his orgasm and taking Sherlock’s own. This time, he could feel the knot swell more, feel the pumps of the thick cock within him that would give them children one day. His heart sung with Omega pride in response finally to that of his Alphas. John was so utterly taken and all was wonderful. He slumped against Sherlock, nuzzling at his throat and lipping little half-kisses against the skin.

“Yes, ours, one day. I promise it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this wasn't posted on Thursday as originally intended, a close family member passed early Thursday afternoon. The last few should post on time, but if they are tardy, my apologies in advance. 
> 
> Love and Light~ Diann


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that there might be a tad bit of dub-con in the very beginning of the chapter depending on how you view the gents and their relationship. I promise that if you think it should be in the tags, I will place it there. That being said, I believe it is very mild, but still worry for my more sensitive readers.

John touched his shoulder as he watched Sherlock smooth the ornate duvet. “Sherlock?”

He gripped at Sherlock’s shoulder then, called his name. And again, more urgently. It was only then that John realised that Sherlock wasn’t just intently following the patterning. The Sentinel had begun murmuring about walls and passageways; while intently focuses on the duvet. John’s heart hammered against his ribs as he bent over the bed himself, and began whispering in the Sentinel’s ear. The Guide found himself praying that Sherlock wasn’t fully zoned, that he could just _call_ him back with the sound of his voice. His scent. Their scent. 

“Sherlock, I’m going to get us on our bed, alright?” 

John moved efficiently. First, shoes and socks were off, then the rest of it under Sherlock’s robes that he could get to. Less... things touching him. Between them. He continued to speak to his Alpha calmly, even as his own hands trembled. It was all so new still. John suddenly realised he had no idea what to do. The thought had him shivering in only the way being drenched in icy water from the lake could. All John knew was that he wanted to curl up with Sherlock. Hold him. As he maneuvered Sherlock fully on to the bed he realised that he had gone slack, as if asleep. This disturbed him further so he began talking instead of whispering. Anything to get a response. His clothes were off in record time as John kept urging his Sentinel to listen. To hear him as he finished undressing Sherlock too and covering them with the now-pulled-over duvet. 

“Do you remember when we met?” The Guide began as he scooted and wrapped and tucked them together. “I never would have thought-” John’s voice caught strangely and he swallowed. Breathed in. “I don’t know what to do, Sherlock. Come back to me.”

Sherlock was breathing, but the bond between them felt as if it was dampened. He needed to nurture, needed to touch. Reassure himself and his mate. Every fine hair that skimmed beneath his fingertips became precious, his hand finally coming to rest against Sherlock’s steady heart as he finally calmed.He matched his Alpha breath for breath. Beat for beat. It felt odd and wonderous. Sliding. Shifting. John could almost hear Sherlock, as if he were down a long echoing passage and all he had to do was follow. As his own eyes fluttered shut, he knew for certain that Sherlock would be just a bit further down the old stairwell. 

It was darker, well the wallcovering was, not the stairs themselves as the softer glow at the bottom illuminated his way down. The patterning that flanked him seemed to move, like in pictures; it’s floralscape was jeweled toned and captivating, but not near as much as the baritone he heard floating up to him. John called out to him even though he knew there was little chance of being heard. Despite the lack of response, the Omega steadily made light work of the last few treads and stepped fully into the hallway. High arching beams opened themselves to the night sky, or what appeared to be. John knew the trick well. Several constellations seemed to glow that much brighter than their brothers and sisters. If he concentrated he thought he could even see stardust trails in connective lines. All of them were ones he had taught Sherlock over the summer two years previous. The memory raised a blush as he smiled softly thinking about those nights spent so close together, in the dark of the night. 

“Not really time wasted though.” He said to himself as he looked again down the corridor. “Now where are you? What is this place?”

Maybe it was his Alpha’s mind palace, but then if it were, why did it feel so... lush?

Warm was a good word to describe it. Vibrant. The silk damask on the walls held those spectacular moving herb sprigs and flowers. Creamy, too bold, too comforting on the eyes; they danced as if in a soft breeze in the garden in the deepest of nights. It tickled at his memory as he made his way down the long corridor, the soft thump of his nervous heartbeat the only sound. John stopped, and strained to listen, but he couldn’t hear Sherlock anymore even though his scent had become thicker and stronger. The Omega tipped his face up slightly and scented, the warmth of bergamot and amber, with an undercurrent of musky deepness that he knew so well teased at his senses. As much as the silence that had fallen on the place was unnerving, the familiar hints of his Alpha drove him forward into the darkened depths. The glimmer of crushed sapphire, hematite, and diamonds surrounded him overhead, the light within them their own; each one winking on and off in its own lazy time. It seemed no less cooler in the now expanding space even as the floor gave way from well worn dappled hune stones to sleek as glass black obsidian. 

John turned around to find himself looking at a doorway he must have passed through, the familiar corridor now gone, but the scent of his Alpha closer still. His bond tugged at him in a way it had not before, even in their shared heat, the Sentinel still tried to remain calm. The memories recalled, of touch and scent and sight, forced an instantaneous blush to cover his face. Cautiously he walked further into the spacious area that was completely covered under what seemed to be the night sky in all of it’s glory. The beautiful fluidity of translucent ribbons hovered to be dissolved and appear further in the distance as a the craggy edges of a strand of the galaxy came in to view. He began making out shapes, still dark, but familiar. A dresser, chairs, a fireplace that glowed with some form of alchemical darkfire. A bed, it’s coverings familiar and quite vivid given that the starlight was still the only illumination in the room. Their bed, the wooden frame too dark to make out, but the duvet’s colours unmistakable. 

Neither was his Sentinel.

“Sherlock-” Of course he would call his name, but felt immediately off-footed for doing so in the space. It seemed irreverent to speak here among the stars and cold quiet.

He had no idea where he was treading, but his bond pulled him. A warm pulse of tangled emotions swept through him as his feet soundlessly carried him over the dimmed stars underfoot and to his bonded. 

“Sherlock,” John softly chided, volumes of worry in his voice. “Sherlock, please.” His finger reached and smoothed at the back of a hand, slowly released the grip on the duvet, then soothed over the deeply furrowed brow above his Sentinel’s wide open eyes. Sherlock’s pupils were fully dilated, dark mirrors haloed by whispy green translucent ribbons. “Come back to me.” 

Leaning over his lover, his mate, the Guide whispered against his soft curls, and the shell of his ear. He kissed the temple closest to his lips before gently pressing them against Sherlock’s, the chaste brush just hovering more than claiming. The Guide felt the pull once again, soul deep. John found himself murmuring soft declarations that he never thought he might. Now though, with his Sentinel, he could imagine nothing else. The blush of embarrassment left him and was quickly replaced with a different sort of heat as he realised they were both nude. He had undressed them in their rooms, why would it not be this way here as well? 

He knelt up, looking down Sherlock’s body before placing his hands on his mate’s chest and straddling him. John still felt as if this were too new, but put it away as he basked in the ethereal glow of his Alpha’s skin against the jeweled hued bands of satin ribbon and ebony brocade of their duvet. John kissed the softened brow that had lost it’s worried lines, thumbed over a high cheekbone as he ghosted another kiss across it’s opposite. It was only them beneath the glittering heavens, their scents mingled with no others. His mouth moved reverently across an angled jaw as he tipped Sherlock’s chin with his own brow and lapped at his throat. The thin skin of it barely containing the rushed pulse beneath his lips.

“Alpha,” The word slipped from him. “ _My_ Alpha,” John softly spoke against the tender flesh. “I’m here, wake for me.”

The Guide called to the baser of two points. First, the Alpha, primal instinct, then he would call out for the Sentinel, the brilliant and quite lost mind of his mate. John’s mouth moved hot and heavy along the lithe shoulder; teeth nipped at spots to pink the alabaster canvas of his mate’s skin. It was more pleasing than he thought it would be, to mark him like this. He smiled into the next open mouthed kiss,lapping his tongue against the fine hard line of bone against his lips; his own body awakening at the light foreplay. His fingers twinned with Sherlock’s, a small twitch of the long one’s in his grasp sent a spark through him to his toes. He felt the rustle of the duvet as Sherlock moved infinitesimally beneath him, a promise of his waking.

John redoubled his efforts then, his kisses more heated, the slight catch of their skin causing friction as he worked down Sherlock’s body. Not too far though; as much as he wanted to kiss at the heated cock he felt stirring against him, he wanted his Alpha aware first. Twitches of muscle slowly became stretching. The eyes that had been so wide, slowly normalised. The Omega in him was protesting, trying to buck him against his Alpha, to make the the gliding of his Alpha against him sink home. He kept his mind, he wanted those star-strewn eyes on him, not some far-away point.

“John?” 

His name. It broke crystalline in the space, ringing with the purity of the Alpha within Sherlock. Within his Sentinel. His bonded. 

“Oh, thank Belenus,” The Omega sat up, rolling his hips in the process. “Sherlock-”

“John.” Slurred and heavy; like sticky treacle. “Let me... touch-”

Hands were moved and soft kisses given to offered palms and fingers. “Yes.” John slid again against Sherlock, feeling himself slick as if in heat, the tip of his Alpha nudging his barely open entrance before he retreated. “Me, Sherlock. Focus on me. Us.” 

The blue-black of the fire rose and sparked silver at its tips as Sherlock rose to sitting and claimed John’s mouth; his hands hot against John’s back as the Alpha gripped him tightly, his cock sliding easily into John. He groaned against the welcome intrusion. The stretch lovely; only pleasure as John was filled to the Alpha’s hilt. Sherlock nipped at his throat and held him tighter, his nails digging crescents into his Omega’s ribs. 

Sherlock inhaled raggedly. “ _Us_.” 

John pulled back enough to hold Sherlock’s face in his hands, kiss him messily. He searched Sherlock’s eyes and found them aware and bright, focused only on him. John’s heart beat wildly at the sight, racing, pumping his blood hard and fast and full of chemical need. Pulling him so their foreheads touched, he kissed at Sherlock before looking down between them. He’d never been so brazen before, watching where their bodies joined into one. His eyes focused on the thickening knot at the base of Sherlock’s cock. Watched as it entered him in steady thrusts that shook John to his core; his own glossy spend viscous between them, catching on the sparse dark hairs of Sherlock’s stomach. John was captivated by how it would barely catch against his navel and cause a delicious shiver to course through him. 

“Calor-” Fell from his lips as Sherlock pressed him closer once again, trapping his cock between them as John whimpered, his head dropping back extending his neck as he swallowed dryly. He murmured, Sherlock’s name the only word on his lips, like a mantra or a prayer.

His Alpha’s teeth found his tender throat and pierced through the venerable skin. John felt a thin rivulet of pleasure run down his back as Sherlock reaffirmed their bond. John’s body here was unmarked, and it made the bite feel stronger, more tender on this virgin flesh. The Alpha’s growl reverberated through the Omega as he (panted) unable to cry out as he wished. Sherlock held him still, but relaxed an arm that was against him and steadied them on it, changing the angle as he released the bite, licking it before murmuring John’s name hotly in his ear before laying him down on the bed and covering him with his body. 

Sherlock licked at him once again before he caressed John’s face. “Watch.” The Alpha’s voice held no explicit command, but the Guide’s whole body attuned to the gruff word. “Watch us, John. Watch me fuck you, darling.”

John could do nothing other than whimper and turn his eyes down to see it. Even though his neck throbbed and it pulled at the bite, he could not take his gaze off of them. Sherlock kissed at his brow and whispered encouragement as the Alpha’s knot filled and caught roughly against his rim. He thought he would die from the pleasure of it all, his breath coming faster as he felt both heavy and light. He held on for dear life and moved with Sherlock, rough, pounding thrusts and whispered tender words against his heated skin as he was taken. When his Alpha’s knot caught and held he cried out, whimpering as tears crossed his cheeks. The fervency of it all cascaded across him and broke, bringing his own orgasm with it. In the moments after, the room of stars faded, and clinging to one another in bliss and exhaustion, they drifted into slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank everyone who waited through my hiatus on this. You all are so very wonderful and kind. I could not believe the outpouring of condolences and well wishes. Thank you so much for allowing me space to heal so that I could work on this with a much better headspace than I had at the time. I hope this update finds you all well and warm.
> 
> Love and Light ~ Bo


End file.
